


Fire Burns

by Staleina



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Background Idea, Eventual Romance (Once she's old enough! Patience...), Magic, Minor OC Character Deaths, Multi, Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staleina/pseuds/Staleina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story of how one young mages first signs of magic throw her into a life in the Circle and how it helped shape her into the strong woman we meet in Dragon Age:Inquisition.<br/>This will eventually delve into how Vivienne becomes know as Madame De Fer as well as her relationship with Bastien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intuition

**Chapter 1: Intuition**

 

Monsters coming closer each towering and tall, breathing terror while climbing down the wall.

Legs thick and twisted like river reeds. Serpent like tails. Limbs bent in all the wrong directions.

Faces stretched and contorted as if they were melting candle wax. Their eyes full of darkness.

_"_ _Don't look into their eyes...they pull at my insides!"_

Hands reaching forward with thin withered fingers trying to get a grasp.

Long sharp and thick cracked nails, like giant pieces of bark...so close, almost touching....

 _“_ _NO!!”_

 

"Mommy! DADDY!!!" a child’s voice screamed out into the night, the monsters vanished but the green fog lingered along the wooden panels of the room in the corners of her eyes. The lantern flame flickering fiercely for a few moments before it calmed. Two shadows rushed into view, one lithe while the other was strong and tall.

"Sssh sshh, it's alright sweetheart, we're here, we're both here. Nothing can get you." The soothing voice of her mother flooded over her like a warm blanket. At first she didn't register the woman speaking to her. She merely looked through her until she found her mother’s eyes. Like two cups of dark hot chocolate looking deep into her own rich brown orbs, pulling her back to reality.

Her mother searched to find what scared her precious child while hiding her own fears. Holding back her own tears and feelings of helplessness. She briefly rested her hand on her daughter’s forehead to check her temperature; she could feel the heat and sweat against her palm. Her daughter trembled and curled up into a ball on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. There were sweat beads at her temples, dampness from tears already shed staining the pillow.

"She's burning up..." Her hand moved to brush the wisps of sweat soaked hair from the girls forehead, stroking her hair, trying to help her go back to sleep and reassure her that she was home and safe. The mothers eyes turned then to her husband as he approached, his strong shoulders limp, his eyes tired. The concern he tried to hide behind his set jaw was still there, she could see it, even though he thought she could not.

"She may have a bit of the sickness that is going about, the townspeople think the Elves brought it with them...but I doubt it. I'll get a cloth." His voice trailed off at the end, people were always blaming the elves for everything. People got sick, it happened when the weather changed and in places where there were always people passing through, particularly in places of poverty. No one race was to blame.

"Make sure you dampen it and add some of the elfroot extract, it's on the shelf above the water basin." She mentioned to him as he walked away. He was tired. He already knew of the elfroot extract but he let her think she reminded him. It made her feel better when she could direct him, it gave her a sense of control when she had none.

They had brewed a bit of tea with cinnamon, ginger and cloves to help soothe the girl as well as themselves. After awhile she had calmed and drifted back to sleep, her mother had used the cloth to wash the sweat away and hoped to have drawn out some of whatever ailed the little girl. With their child asleep, both parents slipped back to their side of the cabin and into their bed. The wife turning to her husband to speak but he reached out to her, his ebony hand touching her dark tan cheek, he speaks in a hushed voice "We'll talk in the morning, she's sleeping, let's rest while we can." She accepted this, tucked herself under his arm, rested her head on his chest and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

He was exhausted from too many restless nights and work had been endless. Trying to gain a good reputation in Wycome as any style of merchant was getting tiresome, particularly since he wasn't able to hire someone else to man the shop. Having to grit his teeth and hold his tongue whenever he heard a racial slur was taking its toll as well. People weren't this terrible to one another back home, in Rivain, the Rivaini, the Elven and the Qunari coexisted, each having their own belief systems and respecting them.

In the Free Marches things were different, the Andrasteans pushed their beliefs on all as they spread their chant, Elves were dragged to alienages in the cities, Qunari were seen as strange beasts instead of a people with a strict code of honour. Any Seers from Rivain that moved into the Free Marches had to be hidden and his trips to take his aunt rations without being noticed were becoming increasingly difficult. Fortunately his trade gave him an excuse to head out to the woods and their market stall had the Templars assured they were merely merchants of trade goods. He would go in the woods for game, deliver what was needed to the Seers. He would then take the skins he'd acquired back with him, sell the meat to the butcher and come home to work the leather, which was becoming trickier as people were starting to veer towards fashion ideals and Orlesian influences instead of practicality. So not only did he have to craft things well, but he had to ensure it looked pretty.

The Templars were always watching and they did not approve of the old ways, they called the Rivaini Seers Hedge Witches, Apostastes and even Abominations for their relationships with spirits. It didn't matter that these were the ways of their people for centuries and that they had managed themselves with little risk before the Chantry and their Maker came, because to Andrasteans the Chant of Light was the only truth and nothing else mattered. The Templars were always out looking for signs that anyone would lead them to any apostates for them to seize. He had to be careful, he had to stay strong for his family, and he could not afford to falter. He did not want to know what the Templars would do if they found out he was helping a "Hedge Witch" that regularly conversed with spirits. Too many thoughts and worries filled his head, but eventually the exhaustion won out and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the scent of the embrium flowers beside their bed soothing his senses.

Morning came and the little girl wandered about smiling, reaching up to try to touch some of the flowers her mother had set up to dry before wandering to the side of the house to smell some of her mothers lilies in their small garden. The nightmares from the previous night seeming to have been completely forgotten as she moved about smiling. Her mother smiled in return as she watched the little girl wander about, wishing she could just stay in that moment forever before calling out to her "My little flower petal, go see Miss Izelia at the market, I hear she has some sweets to give you if you help her prepare her shop this morning. Take the packet with her tonics with you." The girl nodded and headed down the path to the market with the bundle her mother handed her, holding it like she was carrying the most precious of parcels.

Fortunately she didn't have to go far, her parents could still see her as she pulled gently at Miss Izelia robe and delivered the package, proud as could be that she was helping in her own way. Izela turned to thank her, tapping her on the end of her button nose just before taking the parcel. Such a quiet and obedient child, her almond shaped eyes always wide and watching the world, absorbing everything she saw and perfectly polite to every person she met. Everyone in Wycome that met her adored her. She could charm anyone with a smile and her mother hoped that that would never change. The world could be her oyster, she could rise above a merchants life is she chose to.

With the girl safely out of ear shot, the parents started speaking again.

"The dreams are coming more frequently..." she said to her husband as she pulled out a bundle of spindleweed, idly picking off the leaves and tossing them into the pestle. The bangles about her wrist clinking together with each pull.

"You mean the nightmares..." he corrected while reaching for strips of leather to work, there was a great difference between the two, and she had to remember that. Dreams didn't cause their daughter to scream about monsters trying to pull at her.

What did she see to make her dream these things, what have people been telling his little girl? He could take her to the Seer but then there was risk the girl would tell the wrong person about her 'adventure', or that the Templars would follow them out. He'd have to wait until she was old enough to understand what a secret is, so long as it wasn't too late.

"Have you been taking her too close to the butchers again Liam? You know she doesn't like seeing him cut up the meat when the animal still looks whole."

He took a deep breath before he answered her. "No, I haven't Althea. I don't even take down game when she comes with me into the woods. We set up a small camp and talk. I teach her small lessons about survival such as how beasts won't bother us if we have a fire and never to show them when we are afraid, it's best to be brave, they can smell fear. We ate a few rations and came back. I taught her about some of the herbs you showed me when we first met and how to properly pick them." He knew better than to let the girl see things that would scare her, she was only four, although quite bright for her age and very willing to learn.

"I just, I just can't imagine what could scare her so much, why can't I help her? Having a lantern on at night doesn't seem to be calming her. The tonics aren't stopping her dreams; it can't be just a fear of the dark. You don't think she could be showing signs do you? She's too young! They'll take her away..." She avoided the word they both did not want to say aloud, he could hear the panic in her voice, her feelings of helplessness. Her eyes were full of worry as she started to grind the leaves and some seeds together, adding a few other ingredients as she worked at the bench they'd built outside their home so they could watch their darling play as they worked.

"She's only a child, they get nightmares, and it’ll pass. We won't have to worry about that until she's older. My own aunt didn't display any signs until she was ten and she's become a seer. Your grandfather was how old? 9? She's only four, we have time." Was he trying to reassure her...or himself? He didn't know anymore. Was it riskier to take her to the Seer or keep her here? Althea would never let him send her away. A Circle in Rivain would be better than a place like Kirkwall, at least the Rivain Circles somewhat respected Rivaini traditions. Why was he even thinking of Circles....

"I hope you're right. She's so young and the people here, they aren't the same as back home, they won't understand. The Chantric ....." Her eyes darted to the three Templars that were entering the market square and she went silent.

His eyes followed hers and his brows furrowed in response "...I know..." No more was needed to be said, they knew the potential consequences even though their daughter did not. His grey eyes could see his daughter in the distance, giggling as a Templar they called Ser Henric used his shield to reflect the sunlight, making it dance on the wall behind Izelias market stall.

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_There is a reason why we have fears.Why there are pangs of dread at the back of our minds or in the pit of our stomachs._

_T_ _here are reasons for the old wives tales speaking of intuition._

_Whether it is just that or an old magic embedded in all of us or our subconscious speaking out. We do not know._

_Sometimes it is better to listen rather than brush it off as nothing._

_Those thoughts that come into our mind without invitation, voicing concerns we sometimes would rather not think about often have a greater significance than we wish to give them credit for._

_Unfortunately for most, they learn this lesson far too late._

The roaring of the blaze was unmistakable; the entire village woke up to a woman’s shrill scream and the acrid smell of smoke. The small cabin at the edges of the village nearest to the woods was on fire and it could clearly be seen from an edge of the market square, the flames rising high enough for all to see as they eagerly lapped at the night sky. All those that were able bodied and brave of heart ran out of their homes to try to put the flames out as quickly as they could with whatever they had on hand. Many were rushing to the nearby well and stream with pots, buckets and bed pans, just about anything they could find that could hold water to throw onto the fire was used. Humans, Qunari, Elves and even the Templars tried to direct people to safety and prevent the flames from spreading to other homes.

They knew when it was too late to save the woman inside, though some fought to deny it, her gagging coughs and agonizing unintelligible screams died out before anyone could reach her and no other cries were heard coming from the home. After a few failed efforts to get into the cabin without injury, it was agreed with heavy hearts that the family had probably already been lost to the fire. It was decided then that the people were better off concentrating their efforts in preventing it from spreading rather than searching for other survivors. There was far too much risk of the flames devouring most Wycome if they could not control them soon. With the heavy realization that hope for the family was lost, some of those that had known them huddled together for comfort, tears rolling down their cheeks, and leaving lines through the dark masks of soot on their faces.      

The more of the fire they put out, the more smoke there was around to fill their lungs and eyes, choking out any light they had to see around them. How the fire had caught on so quickly no one could explain, perhaps the tonics and various plant oil extracts inside helped fuel it, perhaps a full lantern had been knocked over onto a crate of dried herbs. No one was sure and no one dared speak their suspicions. It took what seemed hours to get the fire under control and the dawn was breaking on the horizon before they were done. They stamped out any hint of embers and sifted through mixture of dry and damp ruins to find the remains that may have been inside so they could be put to rest.

 

The mother’s body was found stuck under a fallen rafter, a blackened and cracked water basin clutched in her shriveled hands and resembling nothing like the elegant herbalist that they had known before. Some onlookers recognized the signs before them and exchanged knowing glances, their hearts sinking deep within their chests as a familiar wave of dread passed over them when the Templars made their way through the ashes. They started searching for the source of the fire once the air had cleared for them to see more clearly. Their eyes were still red and stinging from the smoke that clouded their sight before and their exhaustion was starting to show on their faces.

The only thing that they could find that survived was the nearly five year old Rivaini child just outside the ash surrounding the unrecognizable frame of the home. Her father’s body strewn behind the girl, his arms outstretched and reaching for her. He was covered in black burns from head to toe, skin cracked exposing seared flesh beneath, his clothes and hair had been burned away. They must have gone out a back door and in the darkness and no one had seen them there. The image was clear; his last pain filled breaths were spent to place her out of the fires reach. No healer could have reversed the smokes effect on his lungs and throat or heal the burns on his body, he was found far too late for anything to be done. His death rattle was heard as a Templar and a Qunari approached him, the smell of charred flesh hitting the Templars senses so hard that he struggled not to wretch.

The little girl was wrapped in a wet blanket smelling of smoke and elfroot. Her black hair covered in ash and her dark skinned cheeks smudged with soot as she lay there unconscious but unburned, seemingly unaware of the tragedy that had occurred. She did not even stir when Ser Henric picked her up and held her against his armoured chest. The townsfolk, some still standing half dressed watched silently as he took her to the towns Chantry, it was clear that the gentle girl they once knew would be gone by morning likely never to return and the looks of confusion and mixed feelings were painted across all of their faces.

As the girl was taken away, the Sten knelt down solemnly beside the mans corpse, placing his large hand over the fathers eyes and gently pulling the eyelids closed while saying a farewell to his old friend _“Panahedan, Bassalit-an”*_. 

 


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young girl has arrived at the Ostwick Circle, where she receives a new name and education.

**Chapter 2: Control**

"Does she remember anything?" First Enchanter Montel asked as he glanced up from his Tome on Mortalitasi magic.

The clumsy clank of armour had alerted him of the templars approach well before he had reached the office door. The mage narrowed his dark blue eye and peered through his black lashes at the man standing there, waiting for his reply.

"It doesn't seem so Ser. She keeps asking where her parents are, but makes no mention of the fire. We kept her asleep with a sleeping draught for most of the trek from Wycome. She may not even remember the trip.” He paused a moment to rub his temple.

“She is with the Chantry sisters currently; they are cleaning her up as we speak." The templar adjusted his shield on his arm. He was all too aware that he had not had a moment to clean his own armour since he'd taken charge of the girls transport to the Ostwick Circle. There was still some soot on his boot and ashes in the crevices of his gear.

It was clear the First Enchanter had noticed it as well and did not approve of this lack in propriety. The judgement in the mages eyes was accompanied by a slight curl to his upper lip. The Knight Commander hadn't been lying when he warned that the First Enchanter held appearances in high regard. Something to do with having been a noble of sorts before his rights to lands and titles were stripped from him once his magical abilities surfaced as a youth.

"It is no small blessing that she does not remember the incident. At her age, with time she will forget her family entirely. All she will know is The Circle. How is her temperament?" The Enchanter got up from his desk slowly, brushing off some imagined dirt he'd feared would have transferred to him from the unkempt templar.

The armoured man took a step closer to the First Enchanters desk but did not approach any further. The mage’s eyes had already snapped back at him, warning him to keep his distance.

It was clear that this particular mage had little fear of templar's and expected the full respect that his position granted him.

"Other than her confusion and tears? She is a good child. I used to see her in the Market square and she was never anything other than amicable. I doubt the incident was intentional. It was most likely due to a night terror." It wouldn't have been the first time a mage-child's powers came out due to nightmares.

He didn’t recall her to be an easily frightened girl, he could only recall how he used to make the sunlight dance for her by reflecting it off of his shield in the market square. How she would smile openly whenever he approached, like a child seeing a friend instead of fearing him as some would.

Now she looked at him only with eyes full of questions and it tore at him. He couldn't kneel down to comfort her anymore, he had to keep his distance and treat her as the potential danger that she was. She would never show him those flowers she adored ever again, an interest she shared with her mother, a woman he could only admire from afar. Like him, this girl would never be able to have freedom or a family of her own, both the Chantry and Circle having complete control of her life from then on, her night terror having sealed her fate.

She did not know why he wouldn't tell her where her parents were or why he had taken her to a city with a name she had a hard time pronouncing. She was too young to understand her situation regardless and he was not in any position to tell her anything other than “All will be well. You're a smart girl. Be brave, if you keep your chin up and your head high you'll be fine.” Though he wasn't sure she would be alright, if she couldn't learn to control herself she would be made tranquil or annulled before she would even reach her Harrowing and even the Harrowing posed its own dangers.

His concerns were reflected in the crinkle in his brow. He bit the insides of his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything more.

The mage scrutinized the templar that stood before him “At that age hardly anything is ever done with true intention, they are essentially creatures of instinct and emotion, merely mumbling babes.” his chastising tone cut through the templar's thoughts, bringing his attention back to the room and forcing him to wipe his concerns from his face.

“It is good that she is young, her memories are still delicate things and easily...guided. I will have Ser Gowain put her in the room that I have prepared. He will tell her she was dreadfully sick when she arrived, which is why she remembers nothing and that her parents are well. That they had sent her here for treatment and a proper education." The mage stated everything as if it should have been obvious. This was an opportunity he had been waiting to present itself for a long time. One which he'd been prepared for well in advance.

"But....they are dead! If she finds out we've lied?” He could not be the one to lie to her. The memory of walking through the remains of her old home was still far too fresh. The scent of smoke still lingered in his hair and vestments. The image of the twisted remains of her mother burned into his mind.

If only he had paid more attention, asked her why she often looked so worried instead of keeping his distance...

"There is no need for her to believe any different or upset her any further. By the time she is old enough to pass her Harrowing and ever have leave of the Circle, she will have no need to seek her parents out. Anyone that may remember the incident will not recognize her and she will be given a new name. This is the way it will have to be. Understood?" Montels tone was clear. The templar was overstepping his position and it was not his place to direct what was to happen with the girl.

The First Enchanter already had plans in mind for her. A mage this young with this much power showed great promise. Without family for her to miss and for her to be at such an impressionable age, she could be molded to become something a Circle would be proud of. This was a rare opportunity to bring the Ostwick Circle more renown and show what the First Enchanter was capable of.

The templar struggled with himself a moment. "I could stay here and help watch her." His mind started to worry, was he placing her in the care of the right Circle? He hadn't heard any ill rumours of Ostwick as he had some of the others, which is why he travelled so far to bring her to it, he hoped he had made the right decision, but now he questioned leaving her in the hands of the man in front of him.

"Absolutely not! You are far too close to her past, you must leave by morning. Go fill out a report for our records Ser Henric. You may stay the night to recover your strength and tidy up so you may look presentable to the public.” The mages eyes looked over him barely hiding his distaste for the state the templar was in.

“Once that is done, you must go to your new station at Redcliffe with Arl Eamon. You can exchange your mount at the stable for a fresh one, but that is the best we can do for you given the circumstances. You are dismissed." With that the First Enchanter waved his hand at the templar. His patience had ran out. He sat back in his chair and re-opened the Tome, clearly done with the man.

"Understood. I thank you for your generosity. May the Maker light her path." With that Ser Henric turned and left. He noticed he had said “her” instead of “your” but at that point he no longer cared if he offended the mage. He had done his duty and there was nothing more he could do for her. His brother like fondness for a little Rivaini girl was something he would have to forget. Some things he would have to be sure to detail in his report, the Circle would have to be aware of them for everyone’s safety. No lanterns at night, no matter how much she fears the darkness, and give her flowers when she is sad for they will always place a smile on her face.

~~\0/~~

She curled up next to the hard wood door. One side of her body pressing against it as she cupped her hands between her ear and the door. Her back resting against the cold stone wall behind her. She could barely hear the other children’s voices on the other side, but the sound of them playing drew a smile onto her lips as she heard them giggling about something she didn’t quite catch. She’d never seen them up close, but she imagined their faces despite the lack of familiarity. She imagined joining in with the games that they played and being able to speak with others her age about the intricacies of various spells and the world outside that she couldn’t remember and knew nothing of other than what she’s seen in texts.

It wasn't long until one of the Sisters found her ducked by the door; clearing her throat to catch the child’s attention. “Vivienne, come away from there. Enchanter Lydia is waiting to teach you today’s lesson in the library.”

Vivienne looked up apologetically at the woman in the red Chantry robe. The Sister was reaching out to her with an open hand and offering her a sympathetic smile. “Quickly now dear, you don’t want to keep her waiting.”

She pushed herself up and brushed herself off before walking up the steps to the Sister and placing her hand in the Sisters. “When shall I be able to see the other children Sister Constance?”

The lady replied with the same answer that they gave her each time they found her ducked down by the door “when you are old enough you will be able to meet the other children. But for now you are too small. On your tenth birthday you will be introduced to them provided you learn your lessons well.”

Sister Constance placed an understanding hand on her shoulder to give it a squeeze. “Have patience child, the time will pass faster if you do not think of it.” then turned and patiently walked her back to the library where Enchanter Lydia awaited her.

~~\0/~~

Four years had passed since she had been brought to the Ostwick Circle and her mind had long forgotten what life was like back in Wycome. All she knew was it was where she was from but no images of that life remained in her conscious mind. Her only memories were of The Circle walls and those within it, from the Enchanters that instructed her, the Sisters that guided her and the templars that watched diligently over her.

She was housed in the upper levels of the Circle tower far away from the other students, though she could occasionally hear them in the distance through a barred door at the base of a stairwell. She was too young to be allowed near them yet; at least that is what she was told and it was a reason she accepted even though she yearned to meet the others, to know what they were like and if they could be friends.

It wasn’t a Sister that found her the next time she was spotted by the door. Instead, it was First Enchanter Montel. It wasn’t until she had started to head back up the stairway that she saw him at the top of the steps, his expression firm and unchanging as he watched her approach.

“First Enchanter” she said as she curtsied to him and kept her head bowed. She had no idea how long he’d been watching her and did not wish to ask.

“I was told you could be found here. Come with me Vivienne.” His voice gave no indication of how he felt in regards to finding her in a position he would hardly deem acceptable for a young lady.

She stepped in beside him, brushing herself off out of habit and ensuring her robe was sitting as it should. As she followed behind him, she checked her hair, ensured that her hands were clean and kept quiet until they reached his office. The First Enchanter held propriety in high regard and she would not be found wanting for it in his presence.

He gestured to a small ornate chair near his desk as he made his way to his own on the other side, “Sit” he commanded.

She did as he bid her while she watched him. She had been intimidated by him when she was younger, but now she admired him. He always was a sea of calm that radiated power. He was not the gentlest of men but he was never cruel to her, simply firm and clear with his expectations. The templars respected him. She could only hope to one day be able to command a room merely with a gesture of her hand, to have even half of the self-control he clearly possessed.

“You must stop pining at the door. It is unbecoming of you.” He did not look at her while he made the statement. Instead he looked at the books he was was stacking together on his desk and set them aside.

She startled. He could have told her as much at the door instead of taking her to his office to tell her, but she merely nodded in response. It was a childish guilty pleasure of hers, of this she was quite aware of.

“You will see the other children soon enough, but for now I need you to focus on your studies. I do not want you building fantasies about these children, they will only disappoint you. I assure you that they are not all laughter and kindness. Like any being, they can be cruel, with or without reason. You must be ready for that.” His eyes looked at her steadily as he rested his hands on his desk. “Do you understand why I tell you these things Vivienne? Why I am so forthright with you?” He tilted his head forward, studying her response.

“To prepare me for the world outside these walls.”

“And why must you be?”

“The world is a dangerous place for those that are not prepared for it. It will devour those without knowledge, for they do not value their own survival.”

He nodded his approval.

“And why is it that we have Circles to raise mages, such as you and I?”

“We need places to protect and nurture magic, for magic will find neither of these things on its own.”

“Why is that protection needed child?”

“Magic and Ignorance are dangerous when combined. An ignorant mage is both a danger to others and themselves and the ignorant among the mundane are a danger to all.”

“Why do we have templars?”

“To protect those without magic from mages, mages from those that fear magic as well as mages from one another.”

“Good.” He watched her again, seeing her curious eyes analyze him in return.

She kept her posture proper and still, her expression giving away nothing of what she was thinking, her hands folded within themselves in her lap. These were questions he'd asked her many times before, ensuring that they were well ingrained in her mind, that she understood them fully and did not cast aside the reality of the dangers of magic as well as those who do not understand it.

“So let us revise all of this with another question. Why are you kept from the other children Vivienne?”

She looked down at her hands a moment before slowly drawing her eyes back up to meet his gaze and lifting her chin.

She kept her voice steady as she answered “to protect them from me.”

He let her words dangle in the air a moment before he continued.

“Why must they be protected from you?”

“I lack control. Until I am able to control my night terrors, I must be kept from them in case I slip even while awake.” She fought down any sensation of shame. It was fact, and it was a weakness that she would conquer soon enough. She was getting better at it and they were certain that within two years she would be clear of them.

“Correct. Why else?”

She paused, her mind searching for answers, trying to remember her other lessons before she replied. Recalling words she had overheard from the templars, sisters and Junior Enchanters that would wander her floor.

“I am different. I came here younger than they and they may not understand me. People usually do not respond well to those that are different.” Of course she did not understand what it meant to be different from other children. She had not seen them other than in passing glances when they were sent to the First Enchanters office since she was housed and educated on his floor.

She only knew that this must have been the truth since any time they changed her templar guard, the new guard would speak to her in an impish tone until she replied to them. They would often appear taken aback and resume speaking to her normally after clearing their throats or not at all. Did adults always speak to other children as if they were dolls? She was not sure. She found their reactions amusing none the less.

He offered her a small smile which she took as praise, he rarely smiled to anyone at all.

“That will be all for now. You may return to your room.” With that she got up from the chair, curtsied gracefully and made her way out. She walked with her head held high and shoulders squared, just as he’d always encouraged her to. Improper posture was a sign of poor education and bad breeding; he would have none of it in his presence.

It was not that unusual for the youngest at the Circle to be kept apart for a time. But he had kept her separate longer than most for his own reasons.

He did not want the external influences of the other youths to affect her while she was still malleable. The children that came to the Circle were from all walks of life and some brought distasteful habits and mannerisms with them that he did not wish her learn.

Some were merely street urchins that showed a spark of magical ability and shunted off to a Circle, or spoiled noble children that would look at her dark skin in contempt, tearing at her confidence when he needed to build it.

He himself had seen her complexion as a possible obstacle for his plans early on, but now he felt it would be one that she could overcome. In the end, what made her different could only make her stronger. The mere sight of such dark skin in an Orlesian court could send tongues wagging. The sight of a Rivaini that acted like the highest of nobility would cause some of the best players of the game to be taken off guard, which she could use to her advantage.

He had even grown reluctantly fond of the little Rivaini girl over the years. Having little patience for childish behaviour of any kind, he was pleased to find that he did not have to struggle to maintain his calm with her as he did with other children. She absorbed all of his lessons eagerly and was an example student, which merited her additional lessons that other children were not privy to.

Her main vice was the night terrors, a problem he still could not resolve. One which he eventually decided would be a battle she would have to win on her own.

Once she was gone, he headed to the nearest book shelf, pulling out any tomes that may have references to Arcane Warriors and Knight Enchanters. He set them on his desk beside the rest. It wouldn’t be much longer before he would have to begin instructing her in those arts, assuming everything else went to plan.

He needed to be ready. The Empress would be waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Gethbecomesher for proofing this chapter for me :)

**Author's Note:**

> *Notes: Panahedan, Bassalit-an roughly translates to “Goodbye, honoured one.” Bassalit-an being reserved for those not of the horned people.
> 
> Ser Henric is a Templar from Dragon Age:Origins that plays a very minor role, you may have even passed him without noticing.
> 
> http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Henric
> 
> This is a rough story that I'm working on, so to those that know where to find me, CCW is welcome :)  
> I decided to have a go at writing this after a long discussion on Reddit about Vivienne, /u/possiblyarealdeer suggested I write about her. It took me awhile to bite the bullet...but here it is.  
> There will be more to this story :)  
> So, if you're interested, stay tuned!
> 
> Updated: 3/23/2015
> 
> I'll be tweaking this as I progress with my writing to make improvements as I learn.  
> I'm working on multiple things and tend to be completing prompts faster than working on this (sorry!). I do have some follow up chapters done but I need to make sure they are ready before I let them out.  
> As much as I know Vivienne doesn't have as great of a fan base, I still think she deserves tons of love and I want to do her justice.


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